


In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning

by sassy_cissa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Past Relationship(s), Post-Hogwarts, Teacher Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-05-04 01:16:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5314529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassy_cissa/pseuds/sassy_cissa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fourteen years ago Harry and Draco had one night together. It takes a stunt from Scorpius to bring them back together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [quiddative](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiddative/gifts).



> So many thanks to B, L, M for their support, prodding, encouragement and all-around awesome beta-ness and to the erised mods for being patient and kind. Quiddative I tried very hard to incorporate your wishes but as usual the boys had their own ideas about how the story should be told. Love and wishes for a wonderful holiday, I hope this makes you smile.  
> The quote at the beginning is from the song _In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning_ and the title is shamelessly stolen from the same.

In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning

__

When your lonely heart has learned its lesson  
You'd be his if only he'd call  
In the wee small hours of the morning  
That's the time you miss him most of all

**October 1998**

"You'd think if your only job is to fill Portkey requests you'd have a fucking clue on how to accomplish that task," Draco muttered. He hurried down the hall and stepped onto the lift just as the doors slammed shut. 

"Going up," the ridiculously cheerful voice called out. "Level Four. Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

"Fucking fabulous," Draco grumbled, wondering if he should simply exit on the next level and wait for a lift going down to the Atrium. Checking his watch, he groaned. He'd _wasted_ nearly two hours trying to explain to the idiot in the Portkey office that there was a world of difference between Perth, Australia and Perth, Scotland. His mother was going to join her sister, Andromeda, and his cousin, Teddy, for a holiday in Australia. Andromeda had left England shortly after burying her daughter, Nymphadora and her husband, and Narcissa decided this was the perfect time to become reacquainted with her sister. "We're the only ones left, Draco," Narcissa said. "With your father in Azkaban for the foreseeable future, it's time to move forward." 

As the lift finally stopped on Level Two, Draco saw a familiar disreputable head of black hair enter the lift. Harry Potter. The last time he'd seen Potter was after the trials. Harry had spoken up for Draco and his mother, and as a result they were released. While Potter hadn't offered any testimony in the defence of Lucius Malfoy, neither had he spoken against him. It was hard to believe it had been not quite six months ago. Draco noted Potter was looking quite fit these days.

After the interminable jostle of the lift descending, they finally arrived at the Atrium level. Draco pushed his way through the crush of employees, eager to get to the Floo and end another day of work. He walked quickly until he was practically next to Potter. In what he would decide later was a fit of temporary insanity, he spoke.

"Afternoon, Potter."

Harry stopped and was cursed by half a dozen people who had to shift to avoid stepping on him. He turned and looked at Draco. "Malfoy?" he queried. 

"Got it in one," Draco smirked. He paused, trying to figure out what to say next. Finally he blurted out, "Fancy a drink?"

Harry stared, mouth open and lips moving but no sounds coming out. After a moment he coughed and shook his head. "A drink?" 

Draco laughed to himself. The look on Potter's face was priceless, but Draco's brain whirled. What the fuck had he just done? Schooling his features he struggled to keep his tone even. "Yes, a drink. You know. Something in a glass. Generally alcoholic in nature. I'm quite certain you're aware of the concept."

Harry continued to gape. "With you?" Another pause. "A drink…with you?"

"Never mind, Potter," Draco said, with a roll of his eyes. He turned to leave when he felt a hand grab his arm.

"Wait," Harry said, pulling Draco to the side of the walkway and out of the line of employees queuing for the Floos. "Why would you want to have a drink with me?"

Draco shrugged, now convinced his spur of the moment thought was one of his more stupid ideas. "Do I need a reason?"

"Well, yeah." Harry ran a hand through his mop of inky hair. "It's not like we're mates or anything."

"Point. But I thought perhaps we'd moved beyond childhood animosities. However if you require a reason, how about I never properly thanked you for testifying for mother and me? Or possibly I never did thank you for returning my wand." Draco looked down at the hand still clutching his arm. "But it would appear you don't care about that, so if you'd kindly unhand me I'll be on my way and we can forget my momentary lapse in judgement."

Harry looked at his hand, still wrapped around Draco's arm, but didn't let go. Instead he began to laugh. 

"If you don't beat all, Malfoy." Harry said between chuckles. "I may regret this later, but sure, let's go get a drink." He let go of Draco's arm. "Meet you at the Leaky?"

Draco nodded. He'd acted on impulse, but never really expected Potter to take him up on the offer. He wondered how this would play out and hoped that the night wouldn't end with wands pointed at each other's hearts.

♥ ♥ ♥ 

Draco exited the Floo at the Leaky, pausing to scan the room but half expecting Potter to stand him up, and more than just a little surprised to see him at a table near the edge of the room. Draco walked over.

Harry nodded as Draco sat.

"I ordered," Harry said as the waitress set two glasses of amber liquid on the table. 

Draco chuckled. "I see," he nodded his head towards the glasses. "Hoping alcohol will keep us from _wands drawn at twenty paces_?"

Harry picked up his glass and contemplated the contents. "Actually I was hoping it would take the edge off and prevent any sort of wand action."

"Pity," Draco retorted and took a sip of firewhisky. Clearly, Harry didn't get the inference and Draco, cursing his glib mouth, decided it was probably smarter not to enlighten him. He did surreptitiously watch the man across from him as he took a sip of his drink. The war had aged Harry in all of the right ways. His chin had grown strong and squared, his cheekbones etched. His hands were strong, his fingers long and tapered.

They sat in silence for several moments before Harry set his glass on the table and looked up at him. "What's a pity?" he asked.

In for a knut, in for a galleon, Draco decided, and he waited a beat until Harry was taking a sip from his glass. "Preventing any wand action," he answered. Then winked. 

Harry spluttered, choked and wiped at his chin as he laughed. "Wanker."

Draco shrugged unapologetically. "Only during a dry spell."

Harry snorted. "I could have gone my entire life without that much information, Malfoy." He shook his head. "So leaving that aside, forever please, what brought you to the Ministry today?"

"Trying to sort out a Portkey for Mother to go visit her sister in Australia. She was set to leave next week, but when the Portkey arrived it was scheduled for Perth, Scotland and not Perth, Australia."

They shared a laugh at the incompetence of the Portkey office, then the conversation stalled. Draco rubbed his thumb nervously around the rim of his glass.

"So, you're for the Auror program?" he finally asked. He couldn't say why he found the idea troubling.

Harry apparently responded to his tone, and his frown became a bit defensive. "Seems like the thing to do."

Draco snorted. "Potter the giant killer? I'm sure you'll be an immediate sensation."

An adorable frown pulled his brows into a slight furrow. "I don't even know if they'll admit me to the program."

Draco laughed. "Oh, please." He rolled his eyes. "As if they'd dare to refuse the golden child."

Harry glared at him, and the irritation made his eyes glow absinthe green. All thoughts of how 'adorable' he had seemed disappeared as Draco stared into them. 

"I hate that title," Harry spat. "I hate all of the bloody titles. 'The Chosen One', 'The Golden Trio'. It's all such ruddy shite." Potter's lip curled. "And you, better than anyone, know it. So you can stow the line of tripe now."

Draco gave him a grudging grin. "You do want to spoil my fun, don't you? Poking you is almost as entertaining as rigging Longbottom's cauldron to explode in potions class."

Harry stared at him for a long moment, and Draco was afraid he'd gone too far. He and Longbottom were friends, after all, and Draco and his fellow Slytherin's had taken a good deal of pleasure in harassing the poor lump. But instead of hexing him, which Draco feared, the corner of Harry's eyes crinkled even as he obviously fought the urge to laugh. Finally he gave up and his chuckles poured over Draco, deep and musical. The sound pleased Draco so much he vowed to try to encourage it again.

"He really was just miserable in potions," Harry said, shaking his head. "Being terrified of Snape didn't help, but…poor Nev."

Draco shrugged. "Well, if it helps any, I don't think Severus terrified Longbottom on purpose. I think he just held a natural contempt for anyone who didn't understand the subject matter."

Harry gave him a wry grimace. "I remember. And 'Severus' is it?"

Draco glanced away. "He was my godfather."

Harry's silence lasted long enough that Draco finally looked back. Harry was staring at him, something indecipherable on his face. "I'm sorry," he said finally. He went on, almost reluctantly. "I lost mine, as well. Godfather, I mean."

Draco nodded. "Sirius was my mother's cousin, you know." 

"Yeah. I saw her name on a tapestry at his parent's house. Yours, too."

"The Grimmauld Place house?" Harry nodded, and Draco shuddered. "We only visited the old bat once or twice, but she scared me half to death."

Harry took another sip of his drink. "She's pretty scary." One of Draco's brows arched; Walburga Black had died years before the second war. "There's a portrait," Harry offered awkwardly.

"In the house? You've been there?"

It was dimly lit in the Leaky, but not so dimly that Draco couldn't see the dark red flush that spread across the high cheekbones. "I uhm…" Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "I sort of inherited the house." 

Draco knew his eyes had gone wide when Harry rushed on.

"Sirius didn't really have any other family, at least not any he was talking to, and he and my dad had been best mates and after he and mum were… I guess he felt he owed me, but I could see where your mum might feel like the house should have gone to her…"

"Potter," Draco interrupted. "Relax. My mother didn't want that nasty old house." Draco felt his face heat when he realized how that must've sounded. "Sorry, I mean…"

Now it was Harry's turn to step into the awkward silence. "No, it is a nasty old house. If Sirius hadn't left it to me, I'd be tempted to burn it to the ground. I still have no idea what I'm going to do with it."

"Not going to take up residence with great Auntie Walburga?" Draco teased.

Harry shuddered. "Not bloody likely. She's not exactly my type."

Draco lifted his ale and took a drink. "No, I suppose that would be the Weaslette." He cursed himself the moment the words were out of his mouth and wondered why he couldn't just shut it occasionally. He doubted Harry would take well to having his girlfriend insulted. He was surprised yet again when Harry smirked.

"You might be surprised," Harry said. He met Draco's startled gaze. "We aren't together. Not really. I mean, how could we be? I was off fighting a war and she was at Hogwarts." He shrugged, a reluctant grin on his face. "She's become attached to Nev."

Draco couldn't hide his astonishment. "She'd pick Longbottom over you? Is she blind?"

Harry began to smile slowly. "Was there a compliment in there somewhere, Malfoy?"

Draco felt his face heat. "Don't be daft," he answered, and pushed at his fringe. He'd stopped using gel on his hair and the fine strands were soft. He saw Harry's eyes follow the motion, then linger on his hair. "I quit – " Draco began, then bit his lip.

"I like it," Harry offered. "Better than the other way. It looks…soft." Draco stared at him, and now the blush across Harry's cheeks was so dark there was no mistaking it. 

"Was there a compliment in there, Potter?" he teased. The corner of Harry's lips hitched upward. 

"Don't be daft." 

They nursed their drinks and chatted amiably. Draco was surprised by how much he was enjoying Harry's company when he heard the large grandfather clock above the soot stained fireplace chime seven, and he twisted at the waist to verify the time.

"Damn, I need to go," he said regretfully. He was gratified to see Harry looked slightly disappointed, too. His impulse had worked to his advantage before, so he followed it again. "Listen, Potter, I don't suppose you'd like to get together for a meal, would you?" 

Harry gazed at him and Draco was about to try to make light of it when he nodded. "Actually, I think I'd like that quite a bit. I just have one condition."

"Condition?" Draco grinned. "A word with three syllables. I'm impressed."

"You really are just a wise arse, aren't you?" Harry was grinning, too.

"Guilty as charged. So what is your 'condition'?" 

"You have to call me Harry."

Draco stared him. "I'll try, but only if you can manage to call me Draco."

Harry held his hand out over the table top. "I think I can manage."

Draco looked at the offered hand, then slipped his hand into it and squeezed. "Well, if you can, I'm sure I can as well. So, when shall we – "

"I'll owl you, if that's all right," Harry said quickly when Draco looked once more at the clock.

"That would be perfect." Draco took the cloak he'd hung over the back of his chair and lifted it around his shoulders. "This has been surprisingly pleasant, Po…" He stopped himself with a rueful smile. "Old habits. Harry. This has been surprisingly pleasant, Harry."

Harry smiled. "It has. And I'll be in touch soon."

Draco nodded and headed toward the door, but couldn't resist stopping to glance back. He was pleased to find Harry watching him, and he raised his hand in farewell when Harry did the same.

He was pleased when a tapping sounded at his bedroom window later in the evening, an invitation from Harry attached to the owl's foot for dinner Friday evening in Hogsmeade.

♥ ♥ ♥ 

The Three Broomsticks hadn't been open for business during the siege of Hogsmeade. Rosmerta had boarded it up tight when the Death Eaters had taken over and simply vanished one night, unwilling to serve them. The hierarchy immediately under Voldemort hadn't been happy to be stuck with the Hog's Head, but no one knew where she'd got off to. It wasn't until the Battle of Hogwarts that she returned in time to man the front of the castle with her friends. Fortunately for everyone concerned, she survived and immediately reopened her doors.

Draco hadn't been inside the building since early in his sixth year, so when he entered he felt a bit conspicuous. He shouldn't, he realized as he looked around. Nothing had changed. Fires burned brightly on the hearths and the wood floors and tables gleamed, and the candlelight on the tables and in the wall sconces provided what light there was. Several of the tables were occupied, and Harry was seated near the largest of three fireplaces. It looked as if he'd attempted to tame his hair, with limited success, and he was wearing a heavy black knit jumper that clung to a surprisingly well built upper body. He'd always worn his clothes three sizes too big; seeing him in something that actually fit was startling.

Draco paused long enough to sweep his coat from his shoulders, glad he'd decided on Muggle clothing and not robes. He hung the pea coat over his arm and smoothed his hand down the front of his off white jumper. He started across the room when a soft voice spoke behind him.

"Hello, Draco."

He stopped and turned, and Rosmerta stood behind him. She was still lovely, her curly hair anchored on top of her head and an apron tied around her waist. She'd always been very kind to Draco, even when he probably didn't deserve it.

"Madam Rosmerta," he said. "It's good to see you."

"You, too." Her eyes made a brief excursion from his head to his toes. "You're looking well."

"Allow me to return the compliment," he replied. Her slow smile was lopsided.

"You always have had a very pretty way with manners." She finished wiping her hands on a dishtowel and hung it over her shoulder. "How're your mum and dad?" One of her tawny browns arched.

Rosmerta had been at Hogwarts with his parents, and had been in Slytherin along with them. She and his mother had been friends for years.

"Mother is well," Draco answered. "She's off to see Andromeda and Teddy Lupin next week."

"Good. Andromeda has always been a lovely girl, and Teddy's going to need all the family he can get." Rosmerta paused. "And your father?"

Draco knew his lips twisted before he could stop them. "In Azkaban. Where he belongs. I don't say that to Mother; she still loves him, which I'll never understand." He shrugged one shoulder.

Rosmerta looked momentarily wistful. "Love doesn't always make sense, Draco."

"I suppose." He glanced over his shoulder to find Harry leaned back in his chair, watching him. He lifted his hand and Draco nodded.

"Well, now there's a thing I'd never thought to see," Rosmerta said. Draco turned back. There was a wry smile on her face. "You and Harry playing nice, that is."

"We're…" Draco hesitated. "We're trying to see if we can't be friends, I think."

She nodded sagely. "And that's a worthy pursuit." She turned and started away, then hesitated. "Just… have a care Draco, yes? He's been through as much in his way as you have in yours."

Draco couldn't look into her brown eyes and be flippant. Instead, he nodded and she patted him on the arm before she walked away.

Draco took a deep breath before making his way across the room to the table where Harry sat. He smiled up at him, and Draco thought how handsome he'd become.

"I hope this is okay," Harry said, gesturing toward the fire. "Ever since spending months tromping around in the Forest of Dean, the minute the sun goes down I'm cold."

Draco laid his coat over a vacant chair and took the other. "I'm never unhappy near a fire." He grinned across the table. "The light is so flattering."

Harry studied his face, his head angled to one side. "So it is. But then, I've rarely seen light that didn't flatter you." He looked down at his menu, apparently unaware how thoroughly he'd left Draco gobsmacked. "The food here isn't continental or anything, but…"

"Their shepherd's pie is second to none?" Draco managed. Harry grinned up at him. 

"Who knew you'd like shepherd's pie."

Draco managed a soft snort. "I am an Englishman, Po…" Harry arched a black brow and Draco huffed. "Fine I am an Englishman, _Harry_. We like our shepherd's pie in Wiltshire, too."

"How do you feel about trifle?"

Draco grinned. "Very favourably. What are you drinking?" He gestured to the pewter mug at Harry's elbow.

Harry wrapped long fingers around the mug handle, and Draco stared at them. "Rosie's cider," Harry said. "I'll warn you, though, it packs a punch."

"Oh, I think I can handle it if you can."

"Ah, but I only have to walk up the stairs." Harry gestured toward his mug and lifted two fingers to the bartender, who nodded with a slight smile. 

Draco looked surprised. "You're staying here?"

Harry shrugged, emptying his mug just as two more floated to rest gently on the table. The moment he put the empty down, it disappeared. "I have Grimmauld, but as we discussed the other day, I hate it. I have no idea where my relatives went, but even if I did I'd rather sleep in the forbidden forest than with them."

"What about the Weasleys?" Draco asked. He took a sip of the cider and the rich flavour spread over his tongue. Harry was right; it was potent.

"Ron and Hermione are in Australia with her parents, and now that Gin and I aren't together…" He shook his head. "It's just awkward. And I like it here. It's quiet, and I can do with a bit of quiet right now."

Draco could understand that; he imagined Harry's life had been nothing but hectic since the war ended. As for himself, he wasn't looking forward to that great empty manor when his mother left. He was seriously considering taking the gate house; it only had four rooms, a kitchen, a sitting room, an en suite and bedroom, but how much room did he actually need? And the Manor seemed to echo with footsteps Draco didn't want to hear. 

"So," Harry said when he set his mug on the scarred table top. "Shepherd's pie and trifle, then?"

"I'm game if you are." 

Harry gave him a wry grin. "More game than you might think."

He left Draco mulling that over as he lifted his hand toward Rosie and smiled.

Dinner was tasty, and Draco ate his fill before he finally pushed the dish of trifle away with a groan. 

"Had enough, there?" Harry teased, licking his spoon. He'd been doing that for the last half hour while they'd been eating and chatting, and each move of his sinuous tongue made Draco's trousers feel just a bit tighter.

"You haven't?" Draco looked at the empty dishes in front of Harry. "Have you a tape-worm or something?" He was on his fourth mug of cider and feeling very cheerful. He wondered if he'd mis-stepped when Harry blushed.

"I never got enough to eat when I was a kid," he finally admitted. "Dumbledore placed me with my mum's sister – "

"A Muggle, wasn't she?" Draco had heard that part of the story and found it incongruous. Muggles, raise the famous Harry Potter? It seemed ridiculous.

Harry nodded. "Her, her husband, her son." His lips twisted. "They didn't approve of magic, and resented being landed with me."

Draco straightened. "Disapproved of magic?" he said, his tone arch.

Harry grinned. "Gods, I used to hate it when you went all snotty and elitist." He took a sip of his cider. "I sort of like it, now."

Harry had been doing that through-out the meal; flirting subtly, and Draco found himself wondering if he knew what he was doing. He stopped wondering when a foot that could only be Harry's brushed the inside of his calf. He stiffened slightly but told himself he was mad; there was no way Harry was making a pass. That worked fine, until he did it again.

Draco set his mug carefully on the table, his eyes lifting to find Harry studying him intently. 

"Potter," he started. Harry's gaze didn't shift but his lips quirked. Draco felt a surge of irritation, even as distracted as he was by the persistent tightness of his trousers. "Fine, Harry. Gods, you'd try the patience of a saint."

"Since we don't know any of those, I won't worry over it much."

Draco leaned over the table. "Would you like to tell me what you're about?"

Harry affected a nonchalant air. "Meaning?"

Draco huffed. "Meaning you've been flirting me up all evening, and just now you brushed my leg with your foot."

"So I did," Harry responded, supremely unaffected. "You've a problem with that, do you?"

Draco glanced around at the other uninterested diners and lowered his voice. "If you were bent, I'd have heard it before now."

"So sure of that, are you?" Harry countered. "Because I had so much time to test the waters at Hogwarts between…oh, I don't know… dodging the murderous attempts of a madman."

"You dated _girls_ ," Draco hissed, and Harry laughed.

"So did you," he shot back. "Last I looked, Parkinson qualified. Or am I mistaken, and you've no interest?"

Draco straightened, frowning. Was he interested? He stared into the large green eyes, at the full, sensuous lips and the broad shoulders, and something clenched low in his stomach. Oh yes, if Harry was serious, even knowing he shouldn't be, Draco was very much interested. 

"What if I am?" Draco asked, trying to sound casual.

Harry ran one of his long fingers around the rim of his mug. "My rooms are just up the stairs."

Draco's breathing shortened. "You're serious."

"I never joke about shagging," Harry countered. "I think I've wanted you since fourth year, without realizing what it was. But if you're not interested," he spread his hands with an easy smile. "Nothing ventured and all that."

"I didn't say I wasn't interested," Draco finally managed. "I'm just… startled, is all."

Harry's eyes gleamed. "Shall we have another round of cider in front of my fire upstairs?"

Draco didn't move or say anything for a long moment. Then Harry's mobile brows arched, and the bastard bit his lower lip slightly, and the decision was made by Draco's cock.

"That would be…good."

Harry's smile deepened and he pushed back his chair and stood. He was wearing black jeans with his black jumper, which effectively hid any interest his body might be showing. Draco knew he wasn't nearly as lucky when he slowly stood and Harry's eyes went straight to his groin. He smirked and made a gesture with his hand, inviting Draco to precede him up the stairs.

When they arrived on the second floor Draco let Harry take the lead down the dimly lit hallway. He and Pansy had shared a fairly disastrous afternoon in one of these rooms, but he could see that the carpet was new since then, and the paint. And the sconces with the candles behind glass shades. Harry stopped at room 14 at the far end of the hall and — instead of using a key — opened the door with his wand. When he saw Draco watching, he shrugged. 

"Rosie has put individual spells on each lock. That way no one who isn't invited can barge in."

"Handy, that," Draco said breathlessly. Harry nodded, turning the knob and swinging the door wide. Harry gestured again, and Draco crossed the threshold, his shoulders stiff and his breath tight. Once they were inside, he glanced around the room. There was a fireplace at center with a merrily burning fire, a small sitting room to the right, and an enormous four poster bed to the left. Harry took the coat from Draco's arm and hung it over the back of a wing back chair, and placed his wand on a small table which Draco thought either showed enormous trust or foolishness. He then turned back and, startling Draco, put his hand in the middle of his chest and pushed his back against the wall.

"Wand?" he said, head angled to one side. Draco hesitated. "I've already laid mine aside, Draco. The least you can do is the same."

Draco reached into his sleeve and handed Harry his wand, who set it next to his then turned back, his smile fading.

Draco stared into the resolved face and wondered where the hell this Harry had come from. He remembered a quiet, almost bumbling adolescent who was always good with a spell but not much else. This self-assured, dominant Harry wasn't someone he recognized.

"I gather you've done this before?" Draco said, hoping his voice didn't sound as high to Harry as it did to him.

Harry smiled slightly. "A few times."

"When did you have time?"

Harry apparently thought that was hilarious, and he laughed. "I was fifteen the first time, with another Gryffindor."

Draco's mouth dropped open. "Wait, who?"

Harry shook his head as he stepped in, his chest pressing against Draco's. It made his breath hitch. The hard muscles felt brilliant against his body. "You don't actually expect me to tell you." Draco rolled his eyes. "The war's been over for a few months," Harry went on. "And there are some brilliant Muggle gay bars. Now, do you really want to continue this conversation, or…?" Harry rocked his hips forward, and Draco could feel what his jeans helped hide. He caught his breath when a hard hipbone rubbed against his own rigid length.

"I choose…or."

Harry's slow, saucy smile sent even more blood south of Draco's belt. "Smart man." Harry closed the distance between their lips, covering Draco's and taking them almost immediately in one of the deepest kisses in his memory. There was something behind it; undeniable need but something else. A raw tenderness that made Draco's knees feel weak. Until Harry's hand slipped between them and he cupped his palm over Draco's erection.

They moaned in unison, Draco breaking off to a bit of a squeak when Harry moved his hand up and down, his fingers pressing in over the head of his cock. He leaned more heavily into the wall, arching his hips forward, opening his mouth to Harry's tongue. 

"What do you want?" Harry asked, his voice rough against Draco's mouth. 

"Anything," Draco managed. "Everything."

Harry chuckled, then slid smoothly to his knees. He efficiently opened Draco's trousers and reached through the opening in his boxers, stroking him from base to tip before pulling him out.

"Nice," Harry murmured, continuing the slow stroke. He had calluses on his palm, and they rubbed against Draco sensitive skin in all the right ways. "It looks just like you; long and pale and elegant."

Draco looked down at Harry, holding his cock in his hand, and wanted to say something witty or profound, but all he managed was, "Uhm, thanks."

"You're welcome." Harry then shocked Draco to his toes by leaning forward and swallowing him down in one smooth, practiced motion. He didn't gag, he didn't choke, he took Draco in and then pulled back, his cheeks hallowing as he sucked and his pink lips spread around the width of Draco's cock, leaving a gleaming sheen of saliva on the pale flesh. Draco felt the pleasure spread up from his balls and he sank his fingers into Harry's hair, gripping when Harry curled his tongue around the pink head beneath the cuff of foreskin. 

"Merlin," Draco groaned, his toes curling in his shoes when Harry took him down again, until his nose brushed the dark blond curls at his groin. Another almost agonizing jolt of pleasure spread through Draco, and he made a strangled sound as he pulled on Harry's hair. "Stop, stop," Draco begged. Harry looked up at him, pulling back, and Draco thought it was a very odd time to notice how green his eyes were, how long his black lashes. 

"If you don't stop," he managed," I'm going to embarrass myself by popping off in a very short amount of time." Harry licked the head of Draco's cock, and Draco growled, yanking on his hair. "I'm serious," he ground out between clenched teeth.

"And you coming is a problem?" Harry asked.

"That fast, yes."

Harry stood easily. "Then what do you have in mind?"

Tired of feeling off center, he tugged on Harry's sweater. "Get naked and let's fuck."

Harry's grin spread. "Sounds like a plan to me."

"Good. Stop talking and strip." 

Draco grabbed the hem of his own sweater, yanking it off over his head, pausing only a moment when Harry did the same. His chest and shoulders were beautiful, tawny skin spread over sleek muscles. He had a slender trail of black hair from his navel down, and Draco's mouth went dry. He wanted to see him, taste him. He reached out and yanked at the button fly on his jeans as Harry shoved Draco's slacks and pants down his legs to pool on the floor. 

Harry's prick was perhaps not as long as his, but fully twice as big around. Draco wrapped his fingers around it, thrilling at the heat, the pulse beating beneath the thin skin. Harry grabbed him around his nape and pulled him back in, kissing him fiercely, and Draco whimpered when he felt the press of Harry's teeth against his lower lip. Harry pushed Draco back toward the bed and he stumbled briefly over his trousers, then bounced when he landed on the thick mattress on his bare arse. Moments later Harry was above him, and when he stretched out on top of him, their bodies aligned from lips to groin, Draco groaned and wrapped his arms around Harry's shoulders, his fingers digging in to the lithe muscles. 

"What do you want?" Harry said against Draco's mouth.

"I told you; anything," Draco answered between fevered kisses. "Everything."

Harry leaned away for a moment and Draco heard a drawer being opened. Harry sat up on his knees, spread on either side of Draco's waist, and held up a bottle of lube and a condom. Draco stared at them, his brain taking a minute to catch up to his eyes. Finally, Harry reached for one of Draco's hands and slapped the cylindrical bottle into his palm. 

"Wait," he said, looking up into Harry's eyes. "Is this… I don't…"

"You want to fuck me or not?" Harry asked.

Draco stared. "You'd let me?"

"You do know how? And I don't like lube or stretching charms, so we're talking doing the actual work."

Draco felt his lips twitch in a smile. "I'm sure I can manage."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Harry flipped away, onto his hands and knees, a very nice arse pointed directly toward Draco. He glanced back over his shoulder with an impish smile. "We're not getting any younger here, Draco."

Draco laughed and climbed to his knees.

He took his time about it, too. Harry was tight, _very tight_ and it took a while to loosen him up. Draco damned near lost it just from the noises Harry made. But Draco was good at what he was doing, and Harry was very appreciative. Draco didn't slip the condom over his almost painful hardness until Harry had his face in the bedspread, his hands fisted in the fabric, the long sinuous line of his back slick with sweat. He was hot inside, and when Draco finally lined up and pressed slowly inside he had to stop when he bottomed out to take a deep breath, or he'd lose it instantly. He took two deep breaths, then three, luxuriating in the tight, hot squeeze around his length. Then a hand reached back and pinched Draco's right thigh, hard.

"Goddamn it, Potter," Draco hissed, certain he'd be bruised.

"Did you forget someone else was in the room?" Harry snarled. As a matter of fact, he had, but Draco would never admit that. Instead he leaned forward over Harry's back, curled his fingers over his shoulders and began to move.

He wasn't gentle with him, and Harry obviously didn't want him to be. He urged him on with the coarsest language Draco had ever heard but Draco liked it. It pushed him higher, until his balls drew tight against Harry's arse and he was moments from losing it. Harry already had his hand around his own cock; Draco could see his elbow moving, hear the high, raw sounds he was making.

"How close are you?" Draco was able to grind out, his hair flopping over his forehead as he thrust into Harry hard. 

"There," Harry answered, "I'm there. I'm there. Gods!"

The sphincter that tightened down around his cock squeezed so hard it felt like a vise, the tightest cock ring in history. Draco lost his grace, his rhythm and he flailed, his hand finding the mop of black hair again. He yanked hard as his body began to shudder, and Harry cried out, still in the midst of his orgasm as Draco came apart at the seams. He arched back and rammed in one last time, so hard his own teeth rattled and he shook through one of the strongest orgasms he'd ever experienced in his life. When the shakes began to fade he collapsed onto Harry's back and Harry went flat beneath him, and they lay there for several minutes, just trying to get their breathing under control.

"Draco," Harry finally managed.

"Harry," Draco replied, still trying to get his head back on straight. 

"I can't breathe."

"Oh, sorry." Draco withdrew carefully and still Harry hissed a bit, and flopped over onto his back. After a few more minutes he sat up, waiting for his head to stop spinning. When it was steady, he stood up and padded to the bathroom, dealing with the used condom and washing up. He glanced at himself once in the mirror, not terribly proud of what he was looking at, telling himself Harry was a big boy and knew what he was getting himself into.

When he walked back up to the bed Harry had turned and was under the blankets, covered to his waist. He was so beautiful lying there, his bare skin golden brown against the white sheets, his hair a disreputable mess, his long lashes lying on his cheeks. Everything inside of Draco argued he should just get dressed and leave but Harry opened his eyes and looked up at him, a slight smile on his face. He flipped the blankets back, and Draco couldn't ignore the invitation. He climbed in and settled next to Harry on his side, closed his eyes and drained from the bone melting orgasm, almost immediately fell sleep.

When Draco awoke at two in the morning, the fire had burned low in the hearth, and he could tell from the sound of the breathing at his side that Harry was sound asleep. Careful to move the bed as little as possible, Draco shifted over and stood, gathering up his clothes and slipping into the bathroom. He dressed quickly and silently, and when he was ready to go he went back out into the main room to slide into his coat and retrieve his wand. He headed toward the door, then paused and looked back at Harry, who still slept peacefully on.

He should have told him, Draco thought. He should have told Harry about the marriage contract he'd agreed to, the wedding that was already planned for the spring. There had to be a Malfoy heir; nothing was changed by Draco being gay. And while he dressed he'd already decided he couldn't see Harry again, not even casually. He liked him too much, the sex was too good. Draco knew what was expected of him, what he had to do; falling for Potter wasn't part of his plan.

And he could, he thought as he studied Harry's peaceful face. He could fall, and fall hard. Finally pulling himself away, he opened the door cautiously and stepped out into the hall, then paused to lean against it, sighing. 

He'd had assignations before. He couldn't understand why this was the only one that made him feel as if he might cry.

♥ ♥ ♥ 

**August 2012**

Pansy knelt on her hearth and tossed a handful of Floo powder into the fire. When the flames flared green, she carefully leaned in and called out. "Harry Potter's quarters."

Soon she was looking into Harry's living room…his empty living room. "Potter! Where are you?" she yelled. 

Harry entered her line of vision, wearing nothing but jeans that rode low on his hips. "What's up, Pans?" he said smiling. "Please, oh please, tell me your cat's sick, and we can't possibly go shopping this afternoon."

"I don't have a cat, you arse. And I'm checking in to make sure you don't try to skip out on me." She narrowed her eyes. "I know you, Potter and frankly I wouldn't be surprised to find you hexing yourself to get out of shopping."

Harry sighed. "I promised, Pans. I won't hex myself. Honest."

Pansy laughed. "We should leave right from lunch. If you go back to your rooms, I'll have to drag your arse out."

"Fine," Harry groaned. "At least I'll have a full stomach before an afternoon of torture."

"Torture? Are you implying spending time with me is a chore?" Pansy teased.

"Merlin forbid! It's what we're doing while we spend time together that's a chore."

"You're an arse. You know that, don't you?" Pansy smirked.

"You tell me often enough. Now, go away, Parkinson! I have things to do to prepare myself for this afternoon." 

Harry stood and was already walking away as Pansy pulled herself out of the flames.

She sat back on her heels and shook her head. It always amazed her that she and Potter had become friends. She thought back to the first time she walked into the staff room after Minerva had hired her as the new Transfiguration teacher. Harry was sitting in a chair by the fire. When Pansy walked in, all conversation stopped. After what seemed like an eternity, Harry stood and walked over to her. 

He grinned and held out his hand. "Harry Potter, Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

Pansy had frozen, so unsure of how to proceed until Harry's grin became mischievous. "You're supposed to say 'Pansy Parkinson, Transfiguration teacher and formerly willing to hand over the Chosen One to a Crazy Megalomaniac.'"

After a beat, everyone in the room began to laugh and just like that…Pansy knew she'd been forgiven for her past. She and Harry had spent several hours talking one night after that first meeting. They discussed the war and in the end, knew that both of them had done what was necessary to come out of it alive.

After lunch, Pansy slid her arm through Harry's and pulled him to the front doors. 

"Oh Merlin, Pansy," Harry whinged. "I can't believe we're going to Diagon Alley today of all days. You know letters went out last week. It'll be teaming with students!"

Pansy clipped Harry in the back of the head with her hand. "Man up, Potter. You need to replace those teaching robes of yours. I'm quite tired of staring at the hole in your elbow and the rip at your hem. Not to mention Mcgonagall's tartan knickers will be in a twist if you don't."

"Charming," Harry deadpanned. "I doubt she's even noticed my robes."

Pansy stopped, propping her hands to her hips. "Oh fuck me, Potter! Is your brain ever actually in attendance at staff meetings?" She moved to cuff Harry's head again, but missed when he ducked.

Harry gave Pansy a playful shove. "I'm sure there are any number of blokes clamouring to fuck you, Pans, but in case you've forgotten I prefer dick to fanny."

"I've noticed," Pansy replied with an expansive sigh. "It's my lot in life to be friends with only eligible gay men." She tucked her arm into his and pulled him along. "Now back to the disgraceful state of your teaching robes. We'll pop into Twilfit & Tatting's and have a quick fitting. Then if you're a good little wizard Auntie Pansy will take you to the Quidditch store so you can drool over the new Firebolt sixty-four million."

"You are such a bitchy snob, Parkinson," Harry muttered. "And it's the Firebolt IV." 

"Four…sixty-four million, semantics darling. And you know you love my bitchy side."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Right. But you owe me ice cream too."

Pansy laughed and pulled him inside the clothing store.

♥ ♥ ♥ 

Stepping back into the sunny street felt like heaven to Harry. He hated people fussing over him and even having his clothing fitted was a chore.

"Now that wasn't so bad was it?" Pansy asked when she joined Harry on the street. 

"I'd rather go three rounds with a Hippogriff than be subjected to that torment again," Harry groused.

"Been there," a voice behind them said. "I can assure you that time spent having your clothing fitted is a much better alternative."

Harry and Pansy turned.

Pansy squealed. "Draco! Scorpius! Merlin, it's been an age!" She rushed over and drew them both into a hug.

Draco looked at Harry over Pansy's shoulder. "Potter," he said cordially.

"Malfoy," Harry replied. It had been nearly fourteen years since he'd been this close to the man. And damn, the years had been good to Malfoy, he thought as his traitorous cock twitched in appreciation. 

"Pans," Draco said, giving Pansy a soft push. "Give a man some room to breathe." 

He turned to look at the boy standing beside him, obviously unimpressed by the display going on. Scorpius wore a frown on his face that made Harry wonder if the child ever smiled. "This is my son, Scorpius. Scorpius, this is Harry Potter. And you remember Miss Parkinson, right?"

"I know who he is." Scorpius muttered. 

"Manners, young man," Draco admonished. 

Scorpius looked up and Harry was surprised to see how very much he resembled eleven year old Draco. Scorpius' eyes, however, weren't the steely grey of his fathers. Instead they were an icy blue that Harry assumed were from the maternal side. 

"Pleased to meet you, Mr Potter," Scorpius said, in a voice that lacked any warmth. 

Draco gave a not-so-subtle cough. "And hello, Miss Parkinson," the boy added, and Harry could _feel_ his eyes roll. 

"We were about to head to the Quidditch store so Harry can drool over the new Firebolt. You should come with us." Pansy practically vibrated with excitement. 

"Well, if…" Draco started.

"I just remembered…" Harry said at the same time.

They both stopped and stared until Draco gestured for Harry to continue.

"I just remembered I need to get my lesson plans to McGonagall this afternoon, and they need a bit of polish before I hand them over," Harry rushed out in one breath. "Best be off. Nice to meet you, Scorpius. I suspect we'll be seeing you at Hogwarts soon." He nodded at Draco. "Malfoy."

Harry turned to leave but felt a hand clamp onto his arm. He looked down to see red fingernails grasping the fabric of his robes and digging into his arm.

He lifted his eyes and gave her a pointed look. "Ouch."

"You do not have lesson plans to turn in," she hissed. 

"Yes, I do," Harry said stubbornly. "I'll see you at dinner."

He made his escape before Pansy could get her _claws_ back into him. It took every ounce of restraint, but Harry managed to get well down the street and to the Apparition point before he stopped. He needed to get a grip on himself. For Christ's sakes. It was a one-off…fourteen years ago. Draco, no, _Malfoy,_ was married. He had a son. Harry took a deep breath and steadied himself before turning on the spot and Apparating to outside the gates at Hogwarts.

♥ ♥ ♥ 

"That went well," Draco deadpanned.

Pansy glared. "What did you expect? The last time you two were together…"

"Not now, Pansy," Draco snarled, tilting his head towards his son.

"Fine," Pansy said with a sigh, "but you're an arse and this discussion isn't over."

"Duly noted."

Scorpius rolled his eyes. "You promised me we'd get an owl." His voice was just this side of a whine.

"Merlin," Draco responded. "You spend three weeks with your mother and your tone has more whine in it than the cellars at the Manor!"

Pansy snickered as she put her arm through Draco's. "Oh stop being such a priss and let's go buy the boy an owl."

"I've got a name," Scorpius muttered. 

"So you do, Scorpius," Pansy retorted. "And an attitude. Reminds me of someone else at this age." She laughed and butted her shoulder against Draco's. "I see the Muggles got this one right."

They entered Eeylop's and were immediately surrounded by the sounds and smells of nearly a hundred owls. Scorpius' eyes grew large and he began to dart from one cage to the next. 

Draco turned to look at Pansy, his brow furrowed. "The Muggles got what right?"

"The apple didn't fall far from the tree with this one. There's more than a bit of the Malfoy attitude in him."

"Malfoy attitude?" Draco looked annoyed. "And exactly what is that supposed to mean?"

"It simply means that he's quite like you were at eleven. Cock-sure of yourself and your place in the wizarding world." She patted his arm. "It's not all your fault, Draco. I'm sure spending so much time with his _mother_ and that new husband of hers has something to do with it, too."

Draco laughed. "That _new husband_ of hers was once one of your best friends."

Pansy tilted her head and pursed her lips. "Yours too, before Blaise decided to sleep with your wife. Or have you forgotten that little _indiscretion_?"

"Had I known it was _hang out Draco's dirty laundry_ day, I'd have stayed home!" Draco hissed. "And I repeat…could we please not do this here?"

Pansy sighed in exasperation. "Fine, I'll be kind, sweet, loving Auntie Pansy to the little monster."

Draco shook his head, but his lips curved up in a smile. "How is it you have such a loathing for children…and yet your chosen profession is one that puts you in close contact with them daily for nearly nine months out of the year?"

"That, my darling," she said, linking their arms together and following after Scorpius, "is just one of the many mystical and magical things that make me so wonderful."

♥ ♥ ♥ 

Harry trudged up the path that led to the front door of Hogwarts. He knew he shouldn't have skipped out on Pansy like that, but he was unnerved by how jarred he'd felt when they ran into Malfoy. Not to mention his son. Harry sighed and hurried to his quarters. He just needed to be busy. Maybe he would really work on those lesson plans he'd fibbed about to Pansy. Because they were important, right? Stepping inside his living room, he paused and leaned against the heavy wooden door. He kept seeing Draco in his mind.

"Shite!" Harry ran his fingers through his hair. "Why does the bastard have to look even better than he did fourteen years ago!" He stared up at the ceiling. "Is it too much to ask that the man be fat and balding instead of so damn fit?"

Plopping down behind his desk, he pulled out his lesson plan folder and started making notes for this year's classes. As the shadows through the window became longer, he stood and stretched before heading towards the loo. 

He finished up, washed his hands and stepped back into the living room, only to sense he wasn't alone. He stiffened, then saw Pansy sitting at his table. "Christ on a raft, Parkinson! You're lucky I didn't have my wand with me or you'd have been hexed six ways to Sunday."

Pansy ran her finger down the lesson plan he'd been working on. She looked up, her expression frosty. "Decided to actually work on these so I couldn't accuse you of lying?"

"Of course not," Harry said firmly. "I needed to get them updated and sent off for approval."

Pansy arched a brow. "Seriously, Potter? When's the last time McGonagall looked at your lesson plans? Because she's not asked to see mine since my first year here."

Harry shrugged. "Nothing wrong in being prepared."

"What was that?" Pansy said. "Nothing wrong in being scared?"

"I was not scared!" Harry shot back. "I was…" He sagged onto the sofa, and she rose and followed him.

"Acting like a complete git?"

Harry rubbed at the back of his neck. "It was a bit of a shock, Pansy. Cut a man a break. Or have you forgotten that the last time I had any contact with Draco Malfoy, I still had his spunk on my sheets when he slunk out of my life!"

"Charming," Pansy said, wrinkling her nose in distaste. "Although I'm quite certain very accurate. But cripes, Potter! It was fourteen years ago. Certainly the sex wasn't _that_ good." She peered at Harry.

He squirmed under her glare.

"Oh holy fuck," she exclaimed. "You've still got a bit of a jones for him." She began to laugh.

"Thanks, Pans. Lovely of you to find humour in my pathetic life."

"You know, it might actually be pitiable, if he wasn't still harbouring a _jones_ for you."

"Like that makes a difference." Harry frowned. "He's married. He's got a son."

"Good lord! Don't you ever read anything other than _Quidditch Weekly_? And _Hot Wizard Wands_ doesn't count." She gave a short laugh at his glare. "He's divorced, darling. Has been for nearly three years. Apparently she found his fondness for dick trying, and he discovered her in bed with his best friend one evening."

"His best friend?" Harry repeated. "You mean Zabini?"

"The one and only." Her tone was disapproving.

"But wasn't he your friend too?" Harry asked.

"I've come to learn that Blaise is incapable of being friends with anyone. Except for Astoria, whom he apparently has real feeling for, Blaise is only your friend if you have something he needs or wants."

"But…"

Pansy interrupted. "Don't change the subject. We're talking about you and Draco."

Harry rose and turned his back on her, going to look out through the windows. "There is no Draco and me! His being divorced doesn't change anything." He turned back. "You saw him today; he was barely civil."

Pansy gave him a withering look. "Oh I don't know. From where I was standing you were the _barely civil_ one."

Harry looked down at his feet. "It doesn't matter. It was years ago and it meant nothing to him. I was just an available body."

Pansy pursed her lips and exhaled deeply. "I think," she said slowly, "you're mistaken."

"Leave off, okay? I was just taken aback to see him like that. I know I shouldn't have run off, but…" Harry stopped, bit his lower lip and gave a wan smile. "Let's just move on to something else, yeah? Maybe we could watch some bad telly and eat popcorn for dinner." 

Not for the first time, Harry thanked the gods that when they'd rebuilt Hogwarts someone had thought to use technology to allow some Muggle devices to work within the castle walls. 

"We really are a couple of tragic old sots. You know that don't you?" She gave him a small smile. He returned it weakly.

"Truer words, Pans…truer words."

♥ ♥ ♥ 

The last few weeks of summer seemed to go by in a flash. Before Harry knew it, it was September first and he and Pansy were on their way to the Great Hall for the start of year feast.

"Professor Potter, a moment please." Headmistress McGonagall called as Harry walked near her at the staff table. She stood and moved her hand in a circular motion, directing him to spin in a circle before her.

"My old heart may not be able to handle the shock, Professor. Are you actually wearing teaching robes without holes?" She glanced at Pansy. "Am I correct that you somehow managed to convince him to shop this summer, Professor Parkinson?"

Pansy laughed. "I thought it best before you were forced to take him."

Harry rolled his eyes as his face filled with colour. "My old ones weren't that bad," he muttered, walking to his seat at the other end of the table.

"Darling," Pansy said patting his arm as they walked. "You keep telling yourself that. But frankly they were so hideous I'm fairly certain the house-elves burned them rather than attempt to patch them anymore."

"I hate you," Harry said, but his mouth curved in a smile and his tone held no heat.

They sat and looked out as the second through seventh years filed in. It was a cacophony of sound as friends greeted each other and found seats at their respective tables. When the Headmistress stood and placed the Sorting Hat on the stool in front of the platform, everyone quieted. 

"Here come the midgets," Pansy quipped. 

Harry barely watched as the first years entered the hall. His focus sharpened when he caught a flash of blond hair out of the corner of his eye, however.

"Pans," he hissed, poking an elbow in her side.

"Dammit, Potter, I'm not a beater, and that hurt!" She retorted, smacking the arm away. "What is your…" 

"Is that the Malfoy boy?" Harry interrupted. 

Pansy looked at the first years, then turned to look at Harry, a crease between her brows. "Is that going to be a problem for you?" 

Harry shrugged. "I don't even know him, other than the brief meeting a few weeks ago."

"Yes, but remember what you told me about Snape and how he treated you because of your father? Scorpius isn't Draco; I hope you'll be able to separate the two," Pansy said softly.

"It won't be an issue," Harry said flatly. His mind was racing with thoughts of looking at that face for the next seven years. He knew he could do it, but he also knew it would be painful. When he glanced out again he found Scorpius glaring at him. Harry wondered what on earth he'd been told that would put so much loathing in a look. 

Soon the sorting was over and unsurprisingly Scorpius had sorted Slytherin. Harry wondered if Draco would be pleased and then quickly dismissed the thought. It would serve no purpose to wonder about someone who had probably given him no thought whatsoever in fourteen years.

That night, however, Harry's dreams were filled with blond haired men with strong, lithe bodies and wicked smiles.

♥ ♥ ♥ 

The first week of term was always demanding. The older students were accustomed to Harry and his teaching style, which was fairly laid back, so they weren't much of an issue. But the first-years, especially the Slytherins, were proving to be a handful.

Two weeks into term, Harry and Pansy were enjoying a cup of tea during their afternoon free period. Harry looked up from his Quidditch magazine, wondering how to broach a subject that had been bothering him . 

"Pans? Are you having problems with any of the first-years?" He struggled to keep his tone even. 

"Hmm?" She raised her eyes to look at Harry. "Well a few of the Ravenclaws seem to think they're far brighter than they actually are, and that one Hufflepuff, what is her name? Tall girl, dark hair…looks like she's terrified all the time." She shrugged. "Anyway, she makes me explain everything a dozen times before she'll even attempt to do what the rest of the class accomplished the day before."

"But no problems with the Slytherins?" 

Pansy put her cup in its saucer. "Are you having problems with the Slytherin first years?"

"I don't know. Often in class I hear whispering and then the group snickers and they all stare at me." He held up his hands. "And before you tell me I'm paranoid, it doesn't feel like the ridiculous _he killed the Dark Lord_ rubbish that happened when I first started teaching. It feels – personal."

"Personal how?"

Harry pulled some crumpled parchment out from between a stack of homework parchments. "I find things like this in the first-years homework."

He smoothed out a couple of parchments. On one was a caricature of Harry. Repeated on a loop, over and over, was a rough image of Harry being hit with a curse and falling over, an idiotic expression on his face and stars circling his head. The other showed him falling off a broom and landing in the Whomping Willow, with a similar expression on his face. 

Pansy looked concerned. "Have you talked to McGonagall?"

"First I need to sort out who's the instigator," Harry replied grimly. "I don't want to be falsely accusing anyone."

Pansy ran her finger around the rim of her cup, her mouth drawn down in a frown. Harry immediately regretted mentioning anything to her. It was probably just his imagination that he was being targeted; all of the professors received amateur artwork on occasion. He wondered if he was simply more sensitive to everything that happened when Scorpius Malfoy was in that particular class. 

At the end of October, Harry knew it wasn't just him when things in his classroom came to a head. Harry had taught his first year's a few basic duelling spells over the previous week and he stood at the front of the class. 

"Can I have everyone's attention?" Harry waited until the room was quiet. "Today we're going to find out how well you were listening when I was going over duelling spells."

There were a few groans but mostly the room was filled with _cool_ and _wow_ 's of excitement. 

The students turned to their friends and began to find a partner. "Hang on," Harry called out. "I'm going to be assigning partners, based on your current abilities."

"No fair!" "No way!" was heard across the room.

Harry stood, hands on hips, at the front of the room. "That's enough! I can change my mind and you can spend your class time reading instead of practicing."

There were some lingering grumbles, but for the most part the class seemed resigned to his plan. Harry looked around the room and was a bit unnerved to find Scorpius Malfoy's eyes locked on him, blue and as cold as ice. 

He began matching up duelling pairs, trying for a Slytherin and a Gryffindor as often as possible. "Harper and Creevey, Higgenson and Darby, Nott and Sparks." Harry continued until he realized he was going to end up with one extra student. "McDonald and Pucey, you pair up. Mr Malfoy, you'll have to alternate into that pairing every five spells."

"Now, everyone…" 

"You could pair with me," Scorpius called out, interrupting him. His friends murmured excitedly and exchanged eager grins, apparently impressed with his brass. 

Harry blinked. "Excuse me?"

Scorpius glared at Harry. "I said you and I could duel." He paused. "Professor." He added as an obvious afterthought. It was clearly an insult.

It was all Harry could do not to burst out laughing. He schooled his features before speaking. "I hardly think that would be a fair match-up, Mr Malfoy."

With a look so very reminiscent of his father, Scorpius arched a brow. "Scared, Professor Potter?"

Harry was immediately thrown back in time to his first duel ever…with Draco Malfoy. Now the class seemed to hold its breath, waiting to see how their professor would react. Harry had to wonder just how much of his past at Hogwarts was known to Scorpius. 

"Fear has nothing to do with it, and I think you know that. I wouldn't be appropriate for me to pair myself with a student. Not to mention you're a first year with little to no experience duelling. Now if we can get back to…"

His words were cut off when he heard a whispered _Diffindio_ and a spell shot past his right ear. Harry's head jerked back and he glared over at Scorpius Malfoy. The boy's stance was rigid and his drawn wand was pointed in Harry's direction.

All the students had taken several steps away from Scorpius and he stood alone in the middle of the room. 

"I think you're afraid to duel me." Scorpius persisted, his lip curled. 

Swiping at his ear, Harry was not surprised to see a bit of blood on his fingers. He felt his temper ignite, and the magic in his core was momentarily unstable. This hadn't happened since the war, and Harry knew if he didn't reel his emotions in, windows might shatter. 

"Everyone back in their seats," Harry ground out. "Interesting choice Mr Malfoy; you've just earned yourself a month's detention."

Harry strode to his desk and sat, laying his hands flat on the top. He could see them vibrating with anger. "I want two feet of parchment on my desk at the start of next class on the difference between the _Jelly-Legs Jinx_ and the _Leg-Locker Curse_ and their counter-curses." 

Harry closed his eyes and ran a hand over the back of his neck. The grumbling began quietly, but soon the class was grousing and shooting glares at Scorpius, who sat in his seat, his arms crossed and his lip still curled. Harry tried to decide if the Malfoy boy should be taken to the Headmistress or if he should just deal with it on his own. The rest of class felt interminably long.

♥ ♥ ♥ 

Harry sat in a corner of the staff room, nursing his tea. Headmistress McGonagall marched into the room and stopped at his side. "A word, Professor," she said briskly.

Harry looked up at her and gestured for the Headmistress to have a seat. She remained standing. _This can't be good,_ he thought. 

"In my office, Professor." She turned and walked out without waiting for a reply. 

Harry followed her down the hallway and stopped with her beside the gargoyle that hid the staircase to her office.

"Ice mice," she said curtly. The gargoyle jumped aside and again she moved forward without a word. 

Harry followed her onto the step below her and as the stair began their upward glide, he cleared his throat before speaking. "You do realize you're making me feel like an errant student rather than a member of your staff."

McGonagall turned and gave Harry a withering glare. "Perhaps that's because I've reason to." She stepped off the staircase and opened the door to the office. "After you, _Professor_." 

The inflection on the word professor was not lost on Harry.

He sat in one of the two chairs in front of her desk and waited until McGonagall was seated before speaking. "And what exactly have I done to deserve a trip to the Headmistresses office?"

"I received an Owl today from the father of one of your students. It seems he feels you're — let me see, how did he phrase this — being unreasonably harsh to his son, based on childhood rivalries and prejudices."

Harry rolled his eyes before pursing his lips. "Let me guess. The Owl was from Draco Malfoy. And I'm guessing that his _darling_ son told him I'd given him a month's detention." Harry allowed himself to glare. "And you," he pointed at McGonagall, "are siding with him before even asking me what happened." 

McGonagall's cheeks took on a ruddy pink tinge. "Well you and Draco do have a volatile history, Harry."

"I don't suppose Scorpius told his father that he tried to hex me in class?" 

"He did what?" Minerva's tone was sharp. "Is there a reason you chose not to inform me of this, Harry? This is a serious offence."

Harry sighed, running his hand through his hair. "I was trying **not** to make it into a big deal. I've been having some trouble with that class. Nothing big. Just some unflattering notes stuck in the first-years homework parchments. I specifically didn't come to you because I was afraid you'd tell me I was making a big deal out of normal eleven-year-old behaviour…because it was Draco Malfoy's son in my class."

Minerva looked down at her desk, then shook her head with a sigh. "Given my reaction to Draco's Owl, I can't say as though I blame you. I am sorry for that, Harry. I overreacted." He nodded in acceptance of her apology. "Be that as it may, we still have a rather significant problem on our hands. We have a student who tried to hex a teacher."

Unable to stop himself, Harry began to laugh. "Not to put too fine a point on it, Headmistress, but if you recall — well I actually did hex Professor Snape in the Shrieking Shack my third year."

Minerva shook her head. "If I wasn't already grey, Potter, you'd have forced the issue. However, I do need to hear the entire story from you. And I'm going to have to speak to young Mr Malfoy. And you," she paused to make certain she had Harry's attention, "will need to explain things to his father."

Harry stiffened, his heart beginning to bang against his ribcage. "But, I can't."

"I'm afraid that's not negotiable, Professor Potter. Whatever animosity you may have held for Draco needs to end. Clearly, it's impacting Scorpius, and that cannot be allowed to continue. If the adults can't behave themselves, how can we expect the students to?"

Her arched brow made it clear she wasn't likely to change her mind, and Harry felt faintly sick to his stomach.

♥ ♥ ♥ 

"You're not listening, Pans," Harry whinged. "I have to _talk_ to him!"

Pansy sat at the table in Harry's quarters, grading papers. She looked over to where he was sitting in a chair in front of the fire. "So talk to him. His son was a shite, and he needs to know about it. Man up, for fuck's sake. You've had his dick in your arse, I'm sure you can manage a discussion without coming to blows." She tilted her head and stared at Harry, and he curled his lip and flipped her the bird. She ignored the gesture, her dark eyes studying him.

"Or is it the fact that you'd still like to blow him that has your wand in a knot?"

"Oh, har har," Harry drawled, looking away from her piercing gaze. "You're hysterical."

"Harry," Pansy said softly. "Look at me."

Harry looked at her reluctantly through his fringe of dark hair.

"After all this time?" She rose and walked to his chair, perching on the arm and encircling his shoulders, pulling Harry against her. "Not really just a _jones_ for him, yeah? I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. You've never stayed with anyone longer than a few dates." She raised her eyebrows and shrugged. "Although I can't talk, but really, Harry. After all these years…Draco?"

Harry closed his eyes and sagged against her small frame. "I know. We've discussed that I'm pathetic."

"Honestly, it's kind of sweet." She nudged him in the side. "In a completely pathetic way."

He gave a weak laugh. "What am I going to do?"

Pansy sat up and moved to the ottoman in front of him. "Really? What are you going to do? Oh, vanquisher of evil megalomaniacs? You're going to buck up, buttercup, and Owl him. Then you're going to meet with him and tell him as politely as possible what a little shite his progeny is. Then I'm fairly sure there'll be a fair bit of shouting. Wands may be drawn, but hopefully not used. Unless of course they're the wands in your trousers and then I reserve the right to watch...after I say 'I told you so.'" 

"Bitch," Harry laughed. "You make it sound so easy. We'll be lucky if we get our hellos in before wands are drawn." He rolled his eyes at Pansy's grin. "Not those wands, pervert."

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes. Finally Harry nudged Pansy in the knee. "You're a good friend, you know."

Pansy laughed. "Oh, I'll bet you say that to all the girls who try to hand you over to an evil overlord."

"Only the ones who apologise and end up being my very own fag hag."

"Oh darling, I was hagging long before you came out of that cupboard. Literally and figuratively. Now come with me," she stood and pulled him towards his desk. "Show me some of that Gryffindor courage you supposedly have in spades and write the damn Owl."

"I take back every nice thing I've ever said about you."

"No you don't. Without me who would tell you you're being a whiney arse? The rest of the golden trio is still traipsing around Australia, Longbottom is in deepest darkest Africa hunting down some rare plant that only grows on the side of a tree and Looney Lovegood is off with that nutter husband of hers chasing fwoopers or some damn thing."

"When you put it that way," Harry replied. "I still take it all back."

"Oh stop whinging and write the fucking Owl." Pansy glared. "If you don't, I'll write it and we all know that can't be very good for you."

Harry raised his hands in supplication. "Okay, okay. You win. Now back off and let a man think."

Pansy went back to the table muttering, "I would if there was a man in the room." She jumped and bared her teeth at him when the mild stinging hex hit her on the back of the neck.

Harry pulled out parchment, ink and a quill. He sat, staring straight ahead, trying to decide what he could write that wouldn't make Draco want to hex him. 

_Mr Malfoy,_

_There has been an incident in my classroom with your son._

He wadded up the parchment and tossed to towards the fire. Dipping his quill into the inkpot, he started again. 

_Mr Malfoy,_

_I understand that your son has written to you regarding his detentions. I feel it would be best if you and I discuss this in person. Please meet me in my quarters_

"Oh cripes," he muttered under his breath. "That sounds like I want him." He gave himself a mental eye roll. 

_Mr Malfoy,_

_In class the other day there was an incident involving Scorpius. I understand you have contacted the Headmistress, and unfortunately this isn't a case of simple misbehaving._

_It would be best to discuss this in person. Please make arrangements to meet in the Headmistresses office Thursday evening. While I will be requesting Scorpius also be present, I feel it would be best for us to discuss the matter first._

_Thank you for your consideration in this matter. I will see you Thursday evening._

_Harry Potter  
Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor_

Satisfied, he hurried to the Owlery. He just wanted this meeting with Draco over and done with.

♥ ♥ ♥ 

Draco had just settled in front of the fire with a book and a snifter of brandy. The Owl from Scorpius had upset him, but he felt better after sending his own message to the Headmistress. He grinned to himself, confident Potter had been sufficiently chastised for his unfair treatment of his son.

Deeply immersed in his book, Draco was startled to hear tapping on the window in his study. He looked up and scowled at the interruption when he didn't recognize the owl. He rose, crossed the room and opened the window to allow the bird inside. The brown barn owl hooted softly as it came in and landed lightly on the back of the chair Draco had vacated. Unwrapping the missive from its leg, Draco recognized the Hogwarts crest in the sealing wax. His scowl became a grin, expecting this to be a reply from the Headmistress.

"Let the apologising begin," Draco said, giving the bird a treat from a bowl he kept on the side table. "I'll need for you to wait a few minutes," he addressed the owl as he spoke. "This might require a reply."

The owl hooted, as if it understood.

As Draco read the message, his mouth dropped open in surprise. He read the parchment over several times. "What the hell? What incident?" he stomped to his writing desk and pulled out a fresh piece of parchment, stabbing his quill into the ink well and scrawling across the page.

_Professor Potter,_

_I have no idea what you are trying to pull here, but if there is a problem between my son and yourself I will not wait to discuss it._

_I will meet you at 7 o'clock tomorrow evening in the Headmistresses office._

_Draco Malfoy_

Draco rolled and sealed the parchment before attaching it to the owl's leg.

"Take that to Potter," he instructed the bird. He watched it fly out the window and continued to gaze at it until it disappeared from view. Even when it was gone, he stared, unseeing, through the window.

"Just what are you trying to prove here, Potter?" he wondered aloud.

♥ ♥ ♥ 

Harry stood in front of Dumbledore's portrait. "I'm not sure I can have this conversation with him, Professor, not without hexing him."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Oh Harry, you don't give yourself nearly enough credit these days. Simply discuss the situation and then send for young Scorpius and get the whole thing settled."

He turned when the fire blazed and watched a quick grimace pass over Malfoy's face when he saw Harry was already there, waiting for him.

"Problem?" Harry asked, unable to stop himself.

Draco shook his head. "I was just hoping for a moment alone with Headmistress McGonagall."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Concerned I'm lying about your son, Malfoy?"

"Gentlemen," Dumbledore's portrait interjected softly. 

"Right," Harry snapped. "Mr Malfoy, I've asked you here to discuss an incident involving your son. Please," he gestured towards the chairs in front of the fireplace, "have a seat." Harry really wanted to sit behind the desk, if for no other reason than to throw Malfoy off-balance, but he didn't think Minerva would appreciate him taking a seat behind her desk.

Draco took a seat, but remained rigid. "What exactly is this incident that you're talking about? I find it difficult to believe Scorpius was involved in anything that would warrant a month's detention."

Harry took a deep breath. "I've been working with my first-years on basic duelling practices."

Draco's lips pursed, but he remained silent. 

"I was dividing the class into pairs so they could practice basic spells. _Expelliarmus_ , _Knockback Jinx_ , _Leg-locker curse_ , _Vermillious Duo_. There were an uneven number of students, so I suggested Scorpius switch off with either McDonald or Pucey, every five spells."

"Scorpius objected and you gave him detention," Draco interrupted.

"Actually, Scorpius suggested I partner with him."

"And then you gave him detention?" Draco's tone was dark. 

"I bloody well did not!" Harry's voice was raised. "I refused, as first of all it's not appropriate and secondly, I'm quite sure I'm a bit more skilled at duelling than a first year. Even _your_ son!" Harry paused and took a deep breath, trying to settle his anger. "I gave him detention after he challenged me again and when I refused he shot a _Diffendo_ past my ear."

Draco stared, clearly horrified. "My son. Tried to hex you?"

"Yes." Harry said softly. Draco seemed to deflate and slouched back in the chair, his hand covering his mouth. "Then I gave him a month's detention. I tried to handle it myself, but after your owl to McGonagall…"

Draco stood, looking resigned. "Fine, I'll just go get him and pack his things."

"Pack his things?" Harry's brow furrowed. "Why would you pack his things?"

"Potter, I'm not an idiot. My son hexed a teacher. Of course he's to be sent down."

"Malfoy, sit down. No one is being sent down." Harry rubbed his temples. "Christ you're still a drama queen. I asked you here so that when I talk to Scorpius about this issue and others that have been occurring in my classroom, you're here to hear it first-hand."

"You're not going to send him down?" Draco looked as if he still didn't quite believe it.

"Not today," Harry replied. After a pause, Harry called out: "Lissy." A moment later a diminutive elf wearing a pristine white tea towel popped into the room. Harry knelt down to address her. "Good evening, Lissy."

"Oh Professor Potter!" Her bulbous blue eyes sparkled and she rocked on her tiny feet. "What can Lissy be doing for you?"

"I need you to go to the Slytherin dorms and find Scorpius Malfoy for me." Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a small parchment. "Please give this to him." Before he handed it over, he turned to Draco. "It's a note from the Headmistress requesting his presence in her office immediately. I thought it best that he not suspect it's from me."

"So you're trying to catch him unawares?" Draco sounded disapproving.

Harry shrugged. "I think you'll understand when he's here." He turned back to the elf. "Please don't tell him his father is here or that the note came from me." 

"Yes, Professor Potter," the elf squeaked. "Lissy is a good elf and will not be telling the boy, sir." And she popped out of the room.

Harry returned back to his chair after Lissy left. The air in the room felt heavy and anxious. Harry looked at his watch to see how much time had passed. Two minutes. He struggled not to sigh out loud. He watched as Draco ran his hands down his thighs and stretched out his legs before crossing one ankle over the other. Harry bent his arm in an attempt to see his watch without Draco noticing. 

"It's going to take him at least ten minutes to get up here from the Slytherin dorms," Draco commented. "You can stop checking your watch."

Harry nodded, feeling a bit ridiculous. He wanted to get up and walk around the room, but felt it would be best if he were sitting when Scorpius entered. When Harry's foot started twitching, he summoned all of his self-control and willed it to stop. _Christ, this was torture_. Just when Harry was about to get up and pace, the door to the office opened and a nervous looking Scorpius entered. 

Harry watched as the boy glanced at the Headmistresses desk and then his eyes locked onto Draco.

"Father!" Scorpius exclaimed, rushing forward and throwing his arms around Draco. "Why are you…" His words trailed off when he saw Harry. 

Harry began to speak, but Draco looked at him and gave a nearly imperceptible shake of his head. "Son, I was asked to come here because I understand there's more behind your detentions than you led me to believe. Is that correct?"

Scorpius sneered at Harry. "Did Professor Potter tell you he's afraid to duel me, so he gave me detention?"

Draco blinked. "I don't believe that's the reason, Scorpius."

"I never said I was afraid to duel you, Scorpius," Harry said softly, his tone firm. "What I said was that it would be unfair for me, a professor, to duel a first year student."

"I know a lot more spells than the other stupid first years. They're all babies!" Scorpius cried out. "And you just teach us little kid stuff in class."

"Scorpius!" Draco said sharply. "Apologise to Professor Potter. You know better than to speak to an adult like that."

Scorpius crossed his arms over his chest and remained silent, his expression mulish. 

Draco turned to Harry. "He's not usually like this. I'm not entirely sure where this is coming from, honestly. Scorpius, apologise to Professor Potter. I then expect you to tell me the entire story." 

Harry could see the vein in Draco's neck beginning to pulse. 

Trying to diffuse the situation, Harry started to speak. "Maybe if we…"

Draco cut Harry off with a glare and turned back to his son. "Scorpius Hyperion, why didn't you tell me the truth when you sent that owl? Did you think I wouldn't believe you?"

Scorpius remained silent. 

"Fine." Draco said resolutely. "If you're not going to tell me the truth or apologise, we'll go to your dormitory and pack your trunk."

"Pack my trunk?" Scorpius' eyes widened and his voice went very high. "Why would I pack my trunk?"

Harry looked around helplessly. This was getting out of control. "Scorpius," Harry started, ignoring Draco's glare. "What did you do when I told you I wouldn't duel with you?"

Scorpius puffed out his chest. "I asked if you were too scared to duel me."

"And what was my reply?" Harry queried. 

"You gave some story about me not being experienced enough." Scorpius retorted with an eye roll, indicating his obvious feelings about the situation.

"When I explained further and still refused?" Harry continued.

"I fired a _Diffendo_ at you, but not so close that it would hit you." Scorpius looked at his father. Draco's face was like a thunder cloud, ready to explode.

"You did what?" Draco said slowly. 

Scorpius' voice was small when he replied, much of the previous bravado gone. "I aimed a _Diffendo_ at him." There was a long pause of silence. "But I didn't hit him." 

"Well your aim was a bit off because you nicked my ear." Harry waved off Draco's look of infuriated alarm. "Then what happened, Scorpius?"

"You gave me detention and the class had to write two feet of parchment on the difference between the _Jelly-Legs Jinx_ and the _Leg-Locker Curse_ and their counter-curses." He looked imploringly at his father. "And now my friends are mad at me because we didn't get to duel and had homework instead."

Harry watched as Draco took several deep breaths. "Have you any idea how lucky you are that your Professor has more control than you do? I saw this man kill the most powerful dark wizard of our age. He could turn you to saw dust without thinking about it."

"But Blaise said...." Scorpius looked chagrined.

"Blaise said what?" Draco's tone was so sharp it could cut glass.

"Just... that you hated Po...Professor Potter, and if I wanted to make you proud, the way to do it would be to cause him as much trouble as possible." Scorpius looked near tears and Harry was actually feeling a bit sorry for him. Draco's jaw looked as if it were carved from granite.

"Clearly I'll be needing to have a conversation with Blaise very soon. And he's very much mistaken, son. The way to make me proud is to excel in your studies and to be respectful of others, _especially_ your professors." Draco paused, his face still austere and solemn. "And stay out of trouble." Scorpius' lower lip began to tremble and his eyes filled with tears, Draco went to him, pulling him into an embrace. "But never forget," he said next to the boy's ear, "I will always love you."

Harry had to look away. This was the side of Draco he still loved, the one that showed his emotions. Clearly, Draco loved his son. It was a different picture than the one Harry had seen played out between Draco and his own father. Lucius had only seemed proud of Draco when he was the best, the brightest, top of his class. Anything less had been unforgivable. Harry could see Draco had chosen to be a much better father. 

Scorpius wriggled out of Draco's embrace and turned to Harry. "Professor Potter," he said, tears streaking his cheeks. The sight made Harry's heart ache. "I'm sorry that I've been acting out in your classes. I guess I should listen to my Father and not Blaise about how to make him proud."

Harry gave Scorpius a small smile. "It's fine, although I would prefer if you'd avoid any further attempts at slicing my extremities. I find I'm fond of them." 

Draco walked over to Harry and extended his hand. "I'm sorry I jumped to conclusions." Harry took Draco's hand in his and gave it a solid shake before letting it go. "I'm going to walk Scorpius back to his dormitory, but I'd appreciate it if you could wait for me to return. I'd like to talk to you for a minute or two."

Harry nodded, but wasn't exactly sure what Draco could want to discuss. After Draco and Scorpius left the room, Harry moved back to Dumbledore's portrait. 

"Well done, Harry," Dumbledore beamed. "Who would have thought Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy could be in the same room and wands were not drawn and blood was not shed."

Harry blushed. "It's been known to happen." They chatted a bit more until Harry heard the office door open and Draco returned. 

"I also find myself needing to apologise to you," Draco began. "I had no idea Blaise was filling Scorpius with such twaddle. I guarantee there will be discussions about what he can and cannot teach _my_ son. I don't give a rat's hairy arse if he is married to Scorpius' mother."

"Apology accepted. And that would be appreciated. Although I must say that Scorpius did display some fairly accurate aim when he released that spell. If he'd been in an actual duel, he could have done some serious damage."

Draco gave a short laugh, then looked uncomfortable. It was such an unusual expression on his face that it made Harry wonder what could possibly be on his mind. "Erm, I was wondering…" Draco seemed at a loss for words. He cleared his throat. "I was wondering if you'd have dinner with me this weekend."

Harry tried hard to hide his surprise. "You know, thanks. I'm flattered. But I don't think I could survive that a second time." He gave Draco a weak smile. "You know your way out, right?" he gave him a slight nod, walking through the door and away as quickly as he could manage.

♥ ♥ ♥ 

Pansy tossed some Floo powder into the fire and called out. "Draco Malfoy's flat." When Draco's study came into view, she called out again. "Draco? Are you there?" She waited a bit. "Draco?"

"I'm here, stop bellowing." Draco walked into the room and knelt on the hearth.

"I got your Owl." Pansy's irritation was evident in her tone.

"Then come through." Draco snapped. When Pansy made no move, Draco added, "Please."

"Oh, for Christ's sake. Step out of the way then."

She stepped elegantly into the room, brushing soot from her clothes. "Now what's so important it couldn't wait until morning?"

"I met with Potter tonight," Draco said.

"Yes, I know all about your darling brat and his little stunt."

Draco grimaced. "Yes, a misguided attempt at pleasing me – thanks to Blaise and his bad advice."

Pansy sat on the arm of the chair near the fire. "Really? I've not spoken to Harry." She gave Draco a steely look. "I was grading papers when I was summoned."

She stopped and stared at him, concern on her face for the first time. 

"Draco, what's wrong?" 

"Did you know Scorpius tried to hex Potter?" 

Pansy gasped and raised a hand to her mouth. "No! I knew Harry was upset, but he said he'd handled it, and the subject was closed."

"After everything was sorted and I'd walked Scorpius back to his dorm," Draco said, "I returned to the Headmistresses office to leave." He hesitated. 

"And?" Pansy prodded.

"I asked Potter to dinner." Draco replied.

Pansy smiled. "Fabulous!"

"He said no," Draco said. "Actually what he said was 'Thanks, but I don't think I could survive that a second time.' And then he left. I have no clue what that was all about."

"Seriously?" Pansy said, looking at him as if he was an idiot. "Merlin, you can be so thick. Think about it for a minute. Darling, the last time you had dinner with him, you left without so much as a 'nice shag, Potter'. I believe he's been nursing that bit of shite for fourteen years."

"He told you about that?" Draco was stunned that Harry had told her so much. Pansy shook her head slowly.

"Draco, he was drunk when he told me, but that isn't the point. You hurt him. Badly."

Draco looked down at the floor, feeling wretched. "I knew I should have said something. My parents had signed the marriage contract with Astoria's family…"

Pansy's face screwed up in frustration. "Oh, that would have fixed everything. Sorry, old man, but I'm putting you off for a bird my parents want me to marry. You know, arranged marriage, need to produce an heir." 

She stood, moved to the bar and poured them both a healthy measure of Firewhisky into crystal glasses. "And we all know how well that turned out." Her tone was cold as she turned and handed Draco a glass. "Christ, Draco, are you completely heartless?"

Draco drank slowly. "It hurt me too."

"But not enough to tell your parents to go get fucked and be honest with the one person who might have actually cared for you?"

Draco huffed in exasperation. "Fine, what should I do?"

Pansy sipped at her drink and eyed him warily. "You can start by apologizing to him. Sincerely. Knowing that he's entirely too good for you, and there's no guarantee he'll forgive you."

He looked up at her. "Do you think he might, though?"

She sighed. "You're both so pathetic. In answer to your question, yes, I think he might. But you need to be willing to grovel a bit."

"I can do that," Draco said resolutely. He set his glass on the table and moved to pull Pansy in a hug. "You're a good friend, Pans," he said into her shoulder.

Pansy returned the hug and drained her glass in one gulp. She stood in front of the fire, Floo powder in hand. "Understand this, Draco. We may be friends, but if you hurt him again I will transfigure you into a crup and keep you for a pet!"

Draco laughed, not doubting her for a moment. "Understood."

♥ ♥ ♥ 

The next morning Harry sat at the head table, pushing his eggs around his plate. Draco asking him to dinner brought back memories he'd tried so hard to forget. He'd tossed and turned all night, unable to get the invitation out of his mind. Gods, he'd wanted to go, but that would have been such a huge mistake. He knew it. So why was he still questioning his decision?

Pansy elbowed Harry in the side. "Either eat or get rid of your plate. You're putting me off my breakfast by abusing those eggs."

"Ow," Harry said, rubbing his ribs. Her elbows were sharp. "What that hell, Pans."

"I was telling you I had wild sex last night with Neville behind Greenhouse number three."

"Oh, that's nice," Harry said absently, going back to his eggs.

Pansy biffed the back of Harry's head. 

"Christ, Parkinson!" He rubbed the back of his head. It had stung. "What the hell?"

"I've been talking to you for the last twenty minutes, and just told you I bonked Longbottom. And you said okay." She shuddered dramatically. "I may have to bleach my brain after that thought."

"Sorry." Harry was apologetic. "My mind's elsewhere."

"Hmmm…" Pansy said. At the sound of wings, she looked up. "Ah, mail's here. Not that it matters. It's too early for me to steal your _Wizards and their Wands_ magazine."

Harry groaned. "Like I don't know you ordered that in my name."

As he spoke a large Screech Owl dropped a package in front of him, before turning and flying off again. 

"Ohh!" Pansy squealed in delight. "A package. Professor Potter, what did you Owl-order?"

"I didn't order anything. I think the bird missed its mark. Maybe it's yours."

Pansy grabbed the package, looked at it and tossed to back to Harry. "Except that's your name is on the front. Open it, I'm dying here."

"You're such a child," Harry laughed. He tore open the brown paper and found a box of Honeyduke's best chocolates inside. Harry looked perplexed. "That's odd, there's no card. I wonder if they forgot it when they packed it up to Owl."

Just then the first bell rang. Harry jumped up and grabbed the box. "No time to figure it out. I've got to run or I'll be late to class."

The rest of Harry's day passed without event. That evening he was in his rooms, grading papers when the same Owl from breakfast swooped in his open window. This time the owl landed gracefully next to Harry and dropped the package it had been carrying in its beak. Harry moved to the mantle where he kept his Owl treats. He dropped a few on the table and picked up the package before sitting back down. Tearing at the paper, he unwrapped a bottle of elf-made wine. He didn't have any idea who the gifts were from, but whomever it was had excellent taste. 

The gifts continued for the next two weeks. Nothing as extravagant as the first two gifts, but small, lovely things. A snow globe of the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch, Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, and even a single yellow rose on three different occasions. There was never a card.

Harry had tried every spell he could think of to determine the sender of his gifts. At his wit's end, he Floo'd into Pansy's quarters.

"Pans?" Harry called, stumbling out of the fire. "This is driving me mental! I need to know who's been sending me these gifts."

Pansy came out from her kitchen area, wiping her hands on a towel. "Merlin, Potter, give a person some warning before you burst in. What if I'd been entertaining?"

"You haven't had a date in months."

"Thanks ever so for that reminder, arse." Pansy snapped him with the towel she held in her hands.

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "It's these gifts. It's driving me mental not knowing who sent them. Who would send me gifts? And why would they send them?"

"I think it's sweet. You have a secret admirer." Pansy glanced back over her shoulder towards her kitchen. "You're not really upset are you?"

When Harry finally answered, his voice was soft. "It's… nice. Makes me feel wanted for the first time in a long time. I just want to know who it is."

"And if they were from me?" Draco stepped into the room from the kitchen. 

"You?" Harry looked perplexed. "Why wouldn't you send a card with them?"

Draco took another step closer to Harry. "I didn't send a card because I thought you might send everything back."

"I might have done," Harry said tentatively. "But that doesn't explain why." 

"Because I made a mistake fourteen years ago. I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was getting married. You – gave me this wonderful opportunity to have something, even for one night, I'd always wanted. I convinced myself I wasn't hurting anyone but myself. It was unforgivable of me not to be honest with you. Scorpius is the only thing I don't regret about my disastrous marriage." Draco gave a weak smile. "Although lately I'm not sure how I feel about him, the little snot."

Harry laughed, then bit his lower lip, feeling suddenly shy. 

Draco took Harry's hand in his, holding it firmly. "Is there any chance you might forgive me?"

Harry huffed out a breathy chuckle. "I'll think about it."

Draco pulled Harry close. His breath was hot against Harry's neck when he asked, "Can you think fast?"

Harry grinned, his heart feeling lighter than it had in years. He leaned forward, capturing Draco's lips with his. It felt so right. Draco deepened the kiss, urging Harry's lips to part, then sliding his tongue along Harry's. He sighed and leaned into Draco, and they stood there kissing until they heard a cough. 

"As enjoyable as this is, I'm not sure I'm ready to watch you two consummate this reunion in my living room." Pansy looked stern, but there was a twinkle in her eyes. 

Draco pulled back, holding on to Harry's arms. "I really want to date you. I want to do it right this time."

"On one condition." Harry grinned widely when Draco tilted his head, waiting. "You let me tell Scorpius."

Draco laughed and pulled Harry back in for another kiss. It took fourteen years to get Harry back in his arms and this time, he wasn't letting him go.

Finis

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! You can show your appreciation for the author in a comment here or on [Livejournal](http://hd-erised.livejournal.com/50810.html). ♥
> 
> This story is part of an on-going anonymous fest hosted at [hd_erised @ livejournal.com](http://hd_erised.livejournal.com/). The author will be revealed January 8th.


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